


Invitation

by Mouse9



Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 11:52:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8577448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mouse9/pseuds/Mouse9
Summary: Weeks after suddenly appearing in their hospital for the second time, Stephen appears once again, this time with a request.





	

Doctor Christine Palmer prided herself on two things; her empathy for her fellow man and her uncanny attention to detail. Both had served her incredibly well as a Trauma doctor in the ED.

Which is why after what was, for her, the weirdest shift in the ED since the Battle of New York, she had finally able to sit back and rerun her day in her mind. When, after months of nothing, Stephen Strange literally appeared back into her life. Actually appeared. Out of thin air. 

Okay, that wasn’t true, he appeared out of a magical portal in the mop closet.

If a patient had said that to her, she would’ve paged Doctor Carlson for a psych consult.  
In fact, those last couple of days for her should’ve earned her a psych consult. From him appearing in her unit, dressed in a costume that made him look like a ninja with a cape, bleeding and demanding that only she take care of him, to the unexpected wound and the even more unexpected ghostly visit by the same man she was taking care of, to the portal and finally to the second call to her when a bald white woman in a monk’s robe lay dying on her table. She’d seen the unbelievable before; large green monsters fighting larger crustaceans from a gaping hole in the sky, blonde gods calling down lightening, freaking Captain America. Iron Man fighting creatures of nightmares, freaking Captain America. 

She’d worked almost a triple shift on that day, taking cat naps in the doctor’s lounge.  
No, as much as she would like to think herself crazy, everything that happened wasn’t the weirdest part of the last two days, the weirdest parts involved Strange. His apologies while she sewed him up. The moment in the OR scrub room where he took her hands into his and told her he didn’t want her to go.  
In that moment, she’d been hyper-aware of his fingers against her face. The fingers that, almost a year ago, had been smooth and still, methodically and clinically working towards one single goal. And as well as they had achieved that goal over and over again, there was always something detached about it. A stark contrast from the fingers that touched her face now, scarred and trembling but with a tenderness and purpose she’d never known form the man.  
Likewise, the way he looked at her, quietly accepted what she was willing to give and asked for nothing more.  
Before, she’d been an accessory, an acquisition. He liked beautiful functional things and when they were involved that’s all she was to him. As friends and colleagues, they were fine; he respected her and treated her as an equal...in her field. When they were lovers, she was nothing more than someone to make him look good. 

But in that moment, for the first time she felt wanted. And it was an unusual feeling.  
As much as in that moment, that her wish had finally come true, to be actually wanted by the standoffish Stephen Strange, her name was being paged to the next emergency and she had to make the choice to leave him in that room.  
And he had disappeared. 

* * * *

It’d been almost a month since he’d disappeared out of her life a second time. There’d been no emails, not texts, no calls, nothing. She was trying to settle back into a routine. A routine where he no longer shouted her name down a corridor when he needed her. Where he no longer appeared at her side with a case asking what she saw or discussing a case he knew she would find interesting. A routine where, like for months before his mysterious appearance and disappearance, there was no such person as Doctor Stephen Strange in her hospital.  
Her shift was almost over. It was an unusually warm October evening and she was anticipating going straight home to a bottle of wine and a book she’d picked up over the weekend when she heard it.  
The voice that sent tingles down her spine, especially when it was her name that voice was calling.  
“Christine!”  
One month. Of nothing and then…  
Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, she straightened her spine and turned on her heels not sure what to expect.  
She wasn’t expecting Strange in a pullover and khakis looking as normal as if it were an off day for him. In fact, if it weren’t for the goatee still adorning his face, she could’ve easily convinced herself that this was first time she’d seen him since he’d disappeared and all those other times were merely figments of an overworked mind.  
“Stephen.” She glanced behind him. “You aren’t bleeding nor are you bringing any other strange half dead people along with you. To what do we owe this pleasure?”  
An eyebrow quirked upward as he reached her, letting her know he caught her back attempt at humor.  
He held out an envelope to her. She stared at it.  
“It won’t bite.” His tone was dry, holding a slight undertone of mirth.  
She gave him a look. Their fingers touched briefly as she took the envelope from him and she noticed a slight tremble in his hands still. He remained standing in front of her, silent arms clasp behind him as she examined the envelope.  
“Is this parchment?” She couldn’t believe she was holding what looked like an expensive parchment envelope. She looked up at him. “Is your cult paying for this?”  
“It’s not a cult,” he answered almost by rote. “And yes, this is pretty much the only writing paper the Sanctum has.” He tilted his head towards her hands. “It is customary for one to open an envelope.”  
“You want me to...”  
Christine suddenly felt exposed. She glanced around at the nurses who all suddenly had charting to do in an obvious attempt to overhear the conversation between Strange and Christine. Pocketing the envelope into the pocket of her scrub shirt, she caught his arm and tugged him towards the doctor’s lounge.  
“Come with me.”  
He followed silently, not shaking her hand off, allowing her to pull him. She opened the door to the lounge, peeked in and then pulled him into the empty lounge. She glared at his amused expression.  
“Shut up.”  
The amusement seeped into his voice as he spoke. “I said nothing, Christine.”  
Huffing out a soft breath, she pulled the envelope from her pocket. Her name was written on the front in calligraphy.  
“When did you learn calligraphy?”  
“Magic,” he answered. “The letter needed to be written so I used a spell to write it. My own handwriting still looks as if a second grader could do better.” He raised his hands and she could see them still shake.  
“You could have just sent an email.”  
“I couldn’t. And I’ll admit, I wanted to see you again.”  
The words caught her off guard and her own hands trembles slightly as she opened the envelope and pulled out a piece of folded parchment.  
He still stood silently, as she read the letter. Finally, she looked back up at him.  
“What is this?”  
“An invitation. To my home, my new home rather. I would’ve invited you sooner but the Sanctum had been attacked and the place itself wasn’t safe. We’ve only just finished it and now it is mine.”  
“What do you mean yours?”  
“I mean I am the Master of the New York Sanctum.”  
It all sounded ridiculous.  
“Master…Strange?”  
“Doctor Strange.” He emphasized the title. “I am Master of the house, but I do not use the title.”  
“Well thank you,” she held out the letter. “But I’m not sure a Muggle like myself should even be in a place like that not to mention I’m probably not allowed. In fact, should you even be telling me this?”  
The eyebrow rose again. “Did you honestly just use a Harry Potter reference?”  
She grinned. She couldn’t help it, he looked so affronted. “Oh, I plan on continuing.”  
He looked at the letter for a long moment and finally back to her. He reached out, his fingers curling around hers and pushed her hand back towards her chest.  
“Keep the letter. I…understand if this is too much for you right now, if you can’t fathom stepping foot into the Sanctum after only a small fraction of what you’ve seen. But,” He took a step towards her, his hand still covering hers. “I want to see you Christine. On your terms, when you are ready.”  
Only then did she notice that he wore a watch on his right arm. A broken watch, the glass face plate cracked and broken. She realized with a start that it was the watch she’d bought him while they had been together. Her fingers clenched around the expensive parchment and his thumb stroked the top of her hand.  
“I meant what I said to you before, I can never apologize enough to you for not only everything I put you through but how I treated you. It was inexcusable, I was inexcusable. I can only hope that you will allow me to make it up to you, no matter how long it takes.”  
His other hand reached up to run the back of one finger against her cheek before he stepped back releasing her completely.  
“I still have my phone with me so should you choose to text before you are willing to meet at the Sanctum, I will answer. I have to go.”  
“Wait!” she spun around as he strode past her. She wanted to rush to him, throw her arms around his waist and hold herself to his chest, soaking in his warmth. To feel his arms around her, his mouth on hers again. She did none of these things. Instead she spoke. “You still have that cloak here, don’t you?”  
He turned on his heels to face her as he walked away, a true smile on his face. “It wouldn’t let me leave without it. We compromised. It’s currently waiting impatiently for my return in the mop closet. I hope to see you soon, Christine.”

Then he was gone. 

All she had to prove he’d even been there was a piece of parchment and the lingering warmth of his hand against hers. She looked down at the now crumpled letter again. The address was written on the bottom of the letter along with his signature. The address was on the Upper West Side. Of course, it was.  
Laughter bubbled out of her unbidden and she was glad she was alone in the doctor’s lounge because she truly sounded as if she had cracked. She wasn’t sure about all the magic stuff but she was positive she wanted to see Stephen again.  
If that meant she had to go to his…Sanctum, then….  
But not right now.  
However, she might take advantage of his offer to text.  
This new Stephen Strange confused and intrigued her.  
She wanted to see how long it would last before she put herself out again.


End file.
